


Consider The Possibility

by Evie_adams273



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Anniversary, Depression, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Inspired by sadness, Loss of children, Missing Children, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, but it's also compliant, in the kitchen, lots of exposition, technically this is an AU, very sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evie_adams273/pseuds/Evie_adams273
Summary: In the timeline where Albus and Scorpius never came home, Harry considers everything that happened and everything that will happen now.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	Consider The Possibility

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: suicide, loss, depression
> 
> Credits to Crocs and Kristy on twitter for the idea.

Harry forgot to make breakfast that morning. That wasn’t unusual. Sometimes, he didn’t even make it downstairs. He did today. If only because he had promised himself that today was a day that he would get up for. If he didn’t make it that far on any other day of the year, September 1st was a day he had to do so.

September 1st and his son’s birthday.

It just so happened that those were also the hardest days. Out of the six thousand, two hundred and ten days Albus had been gone, those were the hardest days. But they were also the most important days.

They were the days that Harry felt it most necessary to reopen the case, even though it had been cold for fifteen years. Even though there was never any new evidence. Even though the world was falling away.

Harry refused to believe that his son might be dead. That was the likelihood that almost everyone around him had accepted at this point, but every time Harry came close to coming to terms with that idea, his mind suggested another alternative. And every time he had come to the end of that idea, he was back in the state of refusing to accept.

He detested himself for not being able to accept it. For refusing to give Albus a funeral because part of him truly, truly believed that Albus was still alive. For the only proper remnants of Albus within his own home to be his bedroom, which they still kept exactly as it was. For him. For reasons no one really knew anymore.

He looked up silently as Ginny entered the room, looking similarly empty. She sat down beside him, taking his hand and squeezing it. Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. He was sat atop a cliff, knowing that changing anything, doing anything, would tip him over the edge and allow him to plummet. 

“James and Lily are coming later,” Ginny murmured, her voice almost inaudible.

Harry nodded. He probably wouldn’t register their time at the memorial service. Not completely. He had done it so many times now that it had become something he was able to do while on autopilot. And his mind much preferred autopilot to being conscious of his thoughts and feelings.

If he made an effort to keep himself off autopilot, the same thoughts would run through his head. Like they always did. Someone could play bingo with them.

The reminders that, if he had paid a little more attention to his paperwork, it could have been avoided. The reminders that, if he had forced himself to try harder to reach his son, it could have been avoided.

The reminders that the last thing he had said to his son was that he wished he wasn’t his son.

Albus hadn’t talked to him in the morning. That argument had been the last conversation they’d had. And Harry had cried himself to sleep for years afterwards over that fact. The only reason he didn’t anymore was that he had found a way to numb himself. Cowardly as it was. He still took it.

“Harry,” his wife looked at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Harry nodded. They’d had this conversation a thousand times. But it didn’t change the fact that neither of them could fully accept the words they were speaking. Harry knew why he didn’t accept it. He couldn’t accept it because it meant considering Albus’ death.

And if Albus was dead, he had died thinking that his dad hated him. Harry couldn’t take that idea. But he had to. Because it was his fault.

“We should talk about it.”

“We have talked about it.”

“No. We haven’t. We’ve tried to convince ourselves of something. But it’s been seventeen years. We need to talk about it.”

“If Albus – if Albus is dead,” Harry croaked, “the last thing I said to him…”

“He knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Did he? Gin, sometimes I feel – I snap – and what I say – it’s what I filter out. What if I didn’t love him?”

Silence.

“You loved him then. You love him now. He knew that.”

“Did he?”

More silence.

“We fought. All the time. And if I’d tried a little harder for him…”

“You still loved each other. Which is why it all hurt so much.”

Harry looked at his wife.

“You both wanted something,” she continued softly. “Desperately. And you both tried. Which is why it hurt so much when you fell short. Why you ended up at odds with each other. But you still loved each other.” Pause. “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you like them.”

Harry didn’t reply. He didn’t know what he could say. He knew that Ginny was right. He knew that she’d been considering those words for a very long time. Maybe she had said them to him before. But he still didn’t have a reply.

“If Albus is dead, he died knowing that he was loved. By you. By me. By Lily and James. By Scorpius.”

“I should have done better. I ran in the face of challenge and now our son is gone.”

Harry knew, deep down, that the hope was worthless. Truthfully, he had known that much since day eight of the investigation. He had known that since they had found out about Delphi Diggory. It had become very clear, very quickly, what had happened to their children.

Harry had insisted they keep the case open for as long as possible, but eventually, someone had stepped in and pointed out there was nowhere they could go anymore. Albus, Scorpius and Voldemort’s daughter had vanished off the face of the earth.

The dreams had never come back. His scar had stopped hurting. But Harry would have spent the rest of his life coping with the pain and the nightmares if it meant he got to see his son again. Even if it was only for long enough to make things right again. To say goodbye.

Though, if, by some miracle, Albus and Scorpius were still alive, it wouldn’t be sudden plain sailing. Certainly not with Scorpius.

“What do we do if they do come back?” Harry whispered. “What then?”

“We try and heal. All of us.”

“Not all of us would be able to heal. What would we tell Scorpius?”

“The truth.”

“How could we?”

“Because it’s the truth and you have to be honest with him. It’s what he deserves.”

Harry swallowed. He didn’t want to consider that situation unless it was necessary. He didn’t want to have to tell Scorpius that. But lying, lying would be wrong. But.

“It would destroy Scorpius. To tell him that his dad killed himself because he was so sure that his entire family was gone.”

“But he’d have us.”

Harry pulled away, standing up. It was stupid to let himself go down that path. Not again. Going down it once had been enough. Despite everything he had seen in his time as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, walking into Malfoy Manor to look for Draco and finding his body in the corner of the office had been one of the most harrowing things Harry had ever experienced.

The case had been closed for three weeks at that point. They had known about Delphi for so long that it seemed the only explanation. The only reason the case hadn’t been solved was that they had no concrete evidence for anything at all.

While Harry hadn’t been at that stage of hopelessness at that point, and when he had reached it, he had been surrounded by others, he understood Draco’s loneliness. He understood why Draco had done what he had done.

But it had still rocked the world.

Draco Malfoy kills himself over missing child.

The press had had a field day. One that even Harry hadn’t been able to stop.

Seventeen years on. Nothing ever changed. Not anymore. And maybe they would carry on like this until the day they died. Memorials and services and refusal of closure. Harry didn’t know how much longer he would be able to take it. But he kept going. For his family.

For Albus.

**Author's Note:**

> So, personally this isn't the theory I believe, but considering this was always a sad option. And it was fun. Even if Lucas tries to kill me over it.  
> Thanks for reading  
> Kudos and comments much appreciated  
> Twitter: @evie_adams273


End file.
